I generally like poetry as an art form, though it’s a bit difficult to parse at times. I have collections by Whitman and WB Yeats, and I’ve read Blake’s “Songs of Innocence and Experience” (amazing, by the way), but that’s about it in terms of what I’m really familiar with. I feel like I have no grasp on the history of poetry or the most prolific authors. I know there are certain periods (Romanticism, etc.) but don’t know much about those either. What about poetry from people in different countries? Most of what was covered in high school English classes was…well, English. There aren’t many classes that only talk about poetry (at least in the schools I’ve been in) and I feel woefully ignorant on the entire subject. If I want to appreciate poetry as a whole, I need a much better grasp on the different periods, the poets that are considered “the best”, etc. Please help educate me.
Are you interested in poetry in English only, or in other languages, or in translations from other languages into English?
How much do ideas interest you, as opposed to language?
You picked an era, Romanticism, that to me is key in understanding the ways we think of “poetry” in English today. But some of the concepts behind that school of poetry are historical and philosophical–when I teach an upper-level college course called “Romanticism in the Modern World” I start my students off with some links to the concepts behind Romantic thinking, which is a good place as any to start, though there’s not much poetry, as such, in these readings. Interested or bored?
English is the only language I’m fluent in, but I don’t want to limit myself to poets who wrote in English. I’d also be interested in poems that are translated, but I realize they lose something in the translation.
I love a well-turned phrase, but as a whole I’m more interested in the ideas behind a poem and whether or not they’re conveyed well.
As I vaguely remember from a humanities class, romanticism is about expressing emotions and letting them run freely, as epitomized by “The Sorrows of Young Werther”. But I could always stand to learn more about history, so definitely interested.
Here is a pretty accessible introduction to Romantic thought in poetry by a professor (NOT me) specializing in the period. It contains a few poems, one by Wordsworth, but is mainly idea-oriented rather than text-specific. LMK what you make of it, and I can post a few more readings from my course, or some poems, if you’d rather.
This is a pretty big topic, so I’ll just start small. What did you like about Blake and what did you think about Whitman and Yeats?
I think the easiest way into poetry is to find what you like to read and then explore why.
The early Metaphysical Poets like John Donne are crafty to read.
I toured Walt Whitman’s home once. It is right across the river from Philadelphia, in Camden NJ. He is buried in Camden also.
The guide said they had about 2 or 3 original copies of Leaves of Grass there.
He and Emily Dickinson are always considered 2 of the greatest poets that ever lived.
For me personally, the beauty or power of the sound of the poem is as important as the meaning. “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” has meaning that could be expressed in an essay but not as powerfully. The best poetry must be read out loud, I think.
I had a book of poems as an angsty jr high kid. Just a run of the mill English poetry’s greatest hits. I think it fell apart finally from reading and rereading. Didn’t like em all, but what I liked, I loved. Just get such a book and dive in, I say.
That was a really fascinating read on the period in general. Now that I know a bit more about romanticism, post some poems, if you please.
I like Blake’s use of rhythm and meter; the words he chooses are very evocative of a particular emotion or idea. Whitman’s poetry is more meandering, but one of my favorites by him is “I sit and look out”. It’s very wordy, but in this case, the descriptive nature works to paint a powerful picture. I’ve only just started the collection of Yeats’ poetry, but I like the gentle, flowery feel of his verses.
I’d say head for the junior-high-level section of the local library, find a few anthologies of poetry at 811 (Dewey decimal), check them out, note which poems you enjoy most, and then find more work by those poets. Then branch out from there.
Sure–here’s some early Blake, maybe the purest evocation of the Romantic impulse towards the ideal:
AH, SUNFLOWER! by William Blake (1757-1827)
Ah, Sunflower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveler’s journey is done,
Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sunflower wishes to go.
I love the image of the little sunflower trying so hard to follow its ideal form (the Sun) moving zillions of miles across the sky by turning its tiny head mere inches --sort of like Blake’s idea of the relation between God and man. It’s just such a perfect little poem.
And here’s maybe my favorite poem by Wordsworth:
SURPRISED BY JOY by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
Surprised by joy–impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport–Oh! with whom
But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love recalled thee to my mind–
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss!–That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.
It’s a little vague, but I always imagine that he’s walking through the fields when he sees something that his little girl would love --a butterfly, maybe, or a strange flower–and for a split second turns to her to point it out and then realizes that his little daughter is dead. Wordsworth had a little girl (out of wedlock, with a Frenchwoman) who died. The way he kicks his own sad ass in this is stunning. How guilt-ridden he feels! (“Wind” BTW was pronounced “Wined” as you can see by WW rhyming it with find and blind.)
I love Edgar Allan Poe. This isn’t necessarily my favorite, but it’s concise and representative. I have nothing of any depth to say about poetry, but I wanted to get “the Divine Edgar” into the discussion.
A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?